So what was it like?
by cein
Summary: Post scene to Dead Man Talking. Tony's POV, why he left in such a hurry. Mild slash.


Title - So what was it like? Post scene to Dead man talking  
Author: Ceindreadh Email: Website: n/a Permission to archive: Yes Fandom(s): NCIS Genre (general, hetero or slash) Slash Pairing/Characters: Gibbs/Tony Rating: FRT 13 Summary: Why Tony really left in such a hurry after Kate's question.  
Warnings: Slashy but nothing graphic. Notes: Watching a rerun of Dead Man Talking this just popped into my head.  
Acknowledgments: I don't own them, I'm only borrowing them and I promise to return them in minty fresh condition when I'm finished.

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"So what was it like tonguing a guy?"

The words are ringing in my ears as I make for the elevator and I know that beating such a hasty retreat was the wrong thing to do. I should have stayed and brazened it out, maybe snapped back a comment to Kate about it clearly being one of the things she's too uptight to have ever experienced. So now everybody thinks I'm probably a homophobe as well as womanizer. Kate probably does. That little smirk when she asked the question. She's probably just laughing herself silly right now at the thought that she's got something to give me a hard time about. 

Bet Kate would be laughing on the other side of her face if she knew that I had plenty of experience at sticking my tongue in a guy's mouth. Heck, no need to stop at mouths. My tongue has experienced pretty much every part of the male and female anatomy. Hey, I'm an equal opportunity type of guy. Why should a good-looking guy miss out on my charms just because he has the same equipment I do.

It wasn't the thought of kissing a guy that made me run, it was the thought of having kissed a killer, and not just any killer, but one who had the blood of a colleague on his hands. That was what was making me feel sick as I made for the parking garage. Chris Pacchi had been shot and then sliced up by that bitch...that bastard, and I had been all over her like flies on a day old sandwich. Once again my libido had overridden my common sense. Even if Amanda hadn't been Voss, at the very least she had been connected to a murder suspect and I could have ended up dead. Gibbs was right to call me a bonehead, it was no less than I deserved. Okay, so things had worked out pretty much okay. Chris was still dead, but at least we'd got the bastard who'd killed him. The money, what there was left of it, had been recovered from Amanda's accounts, and the case was closed. So why did I feel so shitty?

"DiNozzo!" 

Gibbs voice nearly made me drop my car keys. "What is it, boss?" I say. "I've typed up my report. If there's any spelling mistakes can't they wait until morning? My head's really sore." I know that playing the injured soldier routine probably won't work. Gibbs is generally of the opinion that a bit of suffering is good for the soul, especially when it's a result of ones own foolishness. But I really just can't bear the thought of going back upstairs and facing all the smug grins.

The ice pack slams into my left hand even as Gibbs snatches the car keys from my right. "Boss?"

"Get in the car," he orders. "You're in no fit state to be driving."

"Gibbs, I'm fine," I try to protest. "I didn't even pass out and..." I stop when I see the look on Gibbs face because it's the one he uses when he doesn't want any arguments from somebody. Usually I get it two or three times a day and the best thing for it is to just do what Gibbs wants. So I hop into the passenger seat figuring that maybe Gibbs is right because my head really does hurt and I know I'm going to have a nice set of bruises from the guys who jumped me in the bar. But the physical pain isn't as bad as the feeling that I've screwed up again and royally this time, and it suddenly occurs to me that maybe the reason Gibbs is driving me home is so that he can give me a good chewing out for being so irresponsible as to leave my post on the stakeout in the first place and set this whole chain of events in motion. 

But Gibbs doesn't say a word throughout the journey. I steal a few sideways glances at him along the way, and even though I've still got Kate's question ringing in my ears, I now have another question clamoring for equal attention "So what would it be like to tongue Gibbs"

And I haven't a clue where that question came from, because even if I didn't know better than to hook up with my co-workers, Gibbs would be the absolutely last person on my list to even try and make a pass at. For one thing, he probably knows about a dozen ways to kill me with his bare hands...although I have to admit, that would add a little excitement to the prospect. Shit, I can't believe I'm thinking something like this. Maybe that bottle to my head did more damage than I thought. It's certainly hurting hard enough. Maybe Ducky missed some of the glass and a piece is working its way into my brain as I think. Yeah that could be it, and it's better than the alternative, which is that I'm getting horny for my boss. I mean the next thing I know I'll be getting a hard on for him and oh crap. I try to avoid glancing down at my groin because I already know that not so lil Tony is waking up.

Okay okay, I can handle this. Just think unsexy thoughts, think unsexy thoughts. Quick, McGee in a bikini...except that's not gonna work, because I caught a glimpse of some of the pics of him Abby keeps on her computer and I have to admit, the kid's not bad. So quick, think of something else, the last crispy critter we worked on, Ducky doing an autopsy. Only that last one is a mistake, while it does take care of my immediate problems with 'not so lil' Tony, it also brings up its own problems, because the last autopsy I saw Ducky working on was Pacchi's and somehow the thought of my buddy Chris's guts spilling out all over the floor starts to make my gut ache in sympathy and then I realize that the combination of Gibbs driving and my imagination is playing havoc with my stomach and all I can do is mumble at Gibbs to pull over, now because the last thing I want is to puke up in my car.

Actually that's not quite the last thing I want. Given a choice between spewing all over the dashboard and having Gibbs hold me up while I'm spewing on the ground beside it, I'm not sure which is the worse alternative. But he pulled the car over immediately and I'm out the door like a shot only of course I catch myself on the seat belt and end up flat on my face in the dirt and the next thing I know I'm on my knees and Gibbs has his arm around me making sure I don't fall over and my dinner - what I ate of it - is on the ground in front of me. 

And then when my stomach is finally empty, Gibbs sets me back against the car and I can tell from the expression on his face, that his hand is just itching to swat me but he probably figures my head is damaged enough already. 

"DiNozzo, you idiot," he yells in my face. Guess he isn't too worried about damaging my hearing. "Why didn't you say you were feeling sick? Dammit, you could have a concussion or be bleeding inside that boneheaded head of yours." I know that he's probably concerned; that all this yelling is just his way of hiding that he worries about his team. Or maybe he's just pissed at me. Sometimes it's hard to tell.

"Not...not concussed," I mange to spit out, and boy I really hate talking with the taste of vomit in my mouth. "Just...just car sick."

He pulls back from me, and for a minute I think he's going to tear into me again but then I see his face crease and what do you know, Gibbs is laughing. He disappears from my line of sight and when he comes back he's handing me a bottle of water. Still smiling as he tells me to rinse my mouth out, which I do.

"So," says Gibbs as he hauls me to my feet. "Are you trying to tell me that I'm a bad driver?" Somehow he's managed to pull me up so that I'm standing only inches away from him, looking straight into his eyes. Oh those beautiful eyes and I'm standing there like a loon wondering just why I've never noticed his eyes before and then I'm trying to look away but all that happens is my gaze moves down to his lips and I've got that question back in my mind again, what would it be like to kiss Gibbs and that line of thinking is bound to get me in trouble, so I move my gaze back up to Gibbs' eyes.

Only that's no good either, because once my eyes lock on his, there's no way I can tear them away. I can see the expression on Gibbs' face change and he's looking a bit puzzled, and there's concern in his voice as he asks me, "DiNozzo, what's wrong?" At least I think it's concern, it's not a tone of voice that I usually associate with Gibbs.

And I'm faced with only a few options. I could maybe tell him I feel sick again or that I'm gonna pass out. Heck, I could even fake passing out, except then he'd probably cart me off to the hospital and give me even more grief about being too dumb to let Ducky give me a proper check over. Or I could just tell him I'm fine, just tired and see if he believes me. Option three, that of simply just looking away...well that's not really an option now, especially now that I've decided on option four, that of leaning forward and kissing Gibbs on the lips. 

Okay, maybe I do have a concussion or something; because of all the boneheaded ideas I've come up with in my lifetime, this has got to be the worst. Maybe not quite the worst...the worst would have been just grabbing Gibbs and planting an almighty smacker on his lips before he could react - trust me, Gibbs may be an ex-Marine, but his reactions are no match for mine when it comes to claiming a kiss. But even I'm not that crazy and I know that forcing a kiss out of Gibbs is likely to end with me in the hospital...probably the psych ward. So I play it subtle, yeah, I can do subtle, not very often, but occasionally. And this is one of those occasions when subtlety is a good thing. So I move in slowly enough that he can pull away. I figure that hey, if he pulls back in time then I can always go with the 'pretending to faint and just accidentally fell on top of your lips' option.

Yeah, don't think Gibbs would fall for that one either. Guess it was lucky for me then that he didn't pull away. He didn't seem surprised at all, if anything I was the more surprised that he hadn't stepped back when he'd seen me move. But there it was, me and Gibbs, standing beside my car with our lips fastened together. And then it seemed only natural for me to put my hands on the side of his face so that he wouldn't move away. But it seemed even more natural when Gibbs slid one hand up alongside my cheek and started stroking it with his thumb. 

I was starting to think that maybe I was really concussed and this was just some sort of hallucination. In between thinking that, I was also thinking that kissing Gibbs was waaaay better than kissing Amanda or Voss or whatever. 

But all good things come to an end and I knew that since I'd been the one to start it that I should stop it as well, so I sort of pull back a bit so I'm looking Gibbs in the eye again, but I keep my hands on his face because I don't want to let him go, and Gibbs is looking at me and he smiles, and it's not one of his "I'm an ex marine and I can kill you with my bare hands smiles" that he sometimes uses on suspects. No, this is the smile of somebody who's just had the best kiss of their life. How can I tell? Hey, I'm the one doing the kissing; trust me, Gibbs never had it so good. And we're just standing there and looking at each other and finally I can't stand the silence so I say, "Boss...aren't you gonna say anything?"

And Gibbs just sort of tilts his head at me and he's still smiling when he says "DiNozzo, what the hell took you so long?"

And then we're kissing again only this time it's Gibbs who's doing the kissing and remember what I said before about Gibbs never having had it so good? Well I have to take that back because I don't think I've ever been kissed like that and he had to have learned it from somewhere. So I'm there and I'm happy and I've finally got the answer to that question that was bugging me all through the car ride only I'm not totally happy because now I've got another question and it's "So what would be it be like to have sex with Gibbs?"

But that's another story.

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Ceindreadh 


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